Middle of Nowhere
by SouthParkFan99
Summary: Token is throwing a party in Arizona, and all of the graduates of South Park High are invited. Unfortunately for Kyle, he has to drive Cartman. Their plans go awry when Kyle's car breaks down in the middle of the desert. The two must now depend on each other if they want to get out of the wilderness alive. SLASH: Kyle x Cartman
1. Chapter 1

_Hello, everyone! First and foremost, I would like to thank my lovely editor, Izzy. Her username is "KymanFanFic". _

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)_

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**Chapter 1**

"Oh, Bubbe!" my mom cries squeezing me into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Mom," I reply, subtly inching away from her. I don't mind the fact that my mom is hugging me in public, but that she still uses my old preschool nickname, Bubbe. I hope to Moses that nobody else heard that. My adopted brother Ike snickers. He's obviously enjoying my embarrassment. I glare at him which only makes him laugh harder.

When my mom finally lets go, I notice my dad standing next to Ike.

"Congratulations, Kyle," he grins as the four of us begin to walk out of the auditorium.

"Thanks. I'm going to go find my friends, if that's all right."

"Go ahead, we'll be in the cafeteria if you need us," says Dad. I'm not trying to seem rude, but I'd rather not listen to my mom go on and on about how proud she is of her little 'bubala'. I don't understand why my parents are so proud of me just for graduating high school. Almost everyone in my grade has as well; including Cartman. If that retard is able to graduate, anyone can.

I finally reach the West exit of the school and head outside where almost all the graduates are hanging out. I skim the open campus for Stan and Kenny once my eyes fully adjust the early afternoon sun. It won't be difficult to find them, considering the fact that only a little over fifty graduates in total go to this school. Then again, everyone is wearing the same royal blue cap and gown, which might make people difficult to differentiate.

The temperature must be at least eighty degrees out, which is abnormally warm for an early June in Colorado. My nose itches badly as I get the urge to sneeze. Fucking allergies. Finally, a familiar face comes into view. Stan is sitting alone at a picnic table under a shady tree, while concentrated on playing some sort of game on his phone.

"Hey, Stan!" I say approaching him. He turns around and smiles, while pushing his black bangs out of his eyes.

"Kyle!" he beams, standing up and giving me a quick hug. "Dude, I can't believe we're finally graduates!" I laugh at his excitement.

"I'm just happy that I'm finally able to leave this hick town." Really, I am. In a few months I will be heading off to college and far away from here. Sure, I'll miss some aspects of South Park, such as Stan and Kenny, but the cons of the town outweigh the pros.

"Same here," he replies, as we both sit down with our backs to the table. "Oh, I forgot to ask, are you going to Token's graduation party?"

"Huh?" My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Dude, no one told you?" I shake my head, still confused. "Token is having a party at his parents' lake house; I think it's next Saturday. All of the seniors are invited."

"Token has a lake house?" I ask in awe. Although Token is the richest kid in South Park, it's still surprising that he owns a goddamn lake house. "Where?"

"Phoenix, Arizona." I raise my eyebrows. Wow, that's at least a twelve-hour drive. I didn't even know that there _were_ lakes in Arizona.

"I don't know, dude. That seems pretty damn far. Would it even be worth the trip?"

"The party _itself_ isn't, but we don't have much time before we part ways for college."

"What's your point?" I ask. What the hell does parting ways have to do with a party?

"My _point_," he continues mocking my tone, "is that we can all just hang out and do something fun like old times." He has a point there. Stan has been very devoted to football, ever since he became South Park High's quarterback, so we haven't seen as much of each other lately.

"By 'all of us' you mean...?" I wait expectantly.

"You, me, Kenny, Butters, and uh... Cartman." He avoids my gaze when he says the last name.

"Cartman?" I say raising my eyebrows. "You're seriously considering letting that fat turd hang out with us?" Actually, Cartman has slimmed down over the course of high school, but that's beside the point.

"Look, Kyle, I know he's an asshole, but when the summer ends there's a good chance we won't be seeing much of each other often."

"Yes, Stan. You've made that very clear."

"We've all known each other for over fourteen years. Maybe that doesn't make him our friend but we _have_ been through a lot together. At least it can be just like old times and we'll all have a proper goodbye." A huge part of Stan's personality is that he is very forgiving, almost to a fault.

"And besides," he continues, "you've never had much of a problem with him hanging out with us in the past. What makes it so different this time?" Oh, shit. He got me there.

"Fine." I sigh in defeat. "What makes you thing he'll even want to go, anyway?"

"Well, I–"

"Stan!" A familiar high-pitched voice cuts him off. Stan's lips are then met passionately with Wendy's. I sit next to the two awkwardly, waiting for their sudden make-out session to end. By the looks of it, however, I don't think it will end any time soon.

I roll my eyes in annoyance as I head back towards the school. Jesus Christ, Wendy can pick the absolute worst times to intervene. Don't get me wrong here, I'm happy for the two being a couple for so long. What really annoys me, though, is that when Stan and I _do_ get to hang out, our time usually gets cut short for Wendy-related reasons. Usually what will happen is Stan will get a call from Wendy saying something like, "Oh, Stan, I miss you so much! Can you come over?" Then Stan will answer something like, "I miss you too, babe, but I'm kind of busy now. Kyle's helping me with homework." Then Wendy will say, "So Kyle's more important than me?" In the end, Stan usually gives in and cuts our time short.

I finally arrive back at the entrance. I guess I should see how my family's doing in the cafeteria. Ike is probably bored to death by now, having no one to talk to.

As I'm about to make my way through the door, I bump right into someone. I'm met with a pair of chocolate-brown eyes.

"Watch where you're going, Jew!" Cartman snaps angrily, shoving me forcefully. I stumble backward, trying desperately not to lose my balance. Cartman's frown disappears when he sees this and bursts into a fit of laughter. How mature.

"_You_ were the one who wasn't watching where they were going, fatass!" I retort, getting back on my feet.

"Oh, please!" he protests. "Everyone knows that Jews have no coordination. Therefore, you bumped into me."

"Oh, grow up, asshole!" He shrugs, seeming to already become bored with the conversation. When the tension dies down, we walk into the building in silence.

I notice that Cartman is wearing his usual outfit, instead of his graduation uniform. He's in a baggy red sweatshirt and dark blue jeans. He stopped wearing his old winter hat in the middle of sixth grade. I haven't seen him with it since. I wonder when he had time to change out his graduation gown, since the ceremony only ended about fifteen minutes ago.

Cartman has slimmed down a lot since the fourth grade. Partially, it was because he had a huge growth spurt in ninth grade. He always has been the shorter one of our group, but now he stands at least four inches taller than me. I still don't by any means consider him to be thing, but he is definitely not fat. There's no way in hell that I'd tell him that, though.

"You going to Token's party?" I ask casually looking down at my feet as we walk the semi-empty halls.

"Maybe," he replies calmly, combing his fingers through his messy brown hair. "I don't have a ride all the way to Arizona, so I don't know how I'm going to get there."

"You have a car, don't you? I've seen it." I quirk an eyebrow.

"Of course I have a car, dipshit." He rolls his eyes. "It got towed recently and I can't get it back till the beginning of July."

"Wow, dude. That sucks." He nods quietly, stuffing his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. It occurs to me that Cartman and I are having a somewhat civilized conversation. That's very unusual.

"Are _you_ going?" he asks curiously. I'm surprised he even gives a shit whether or not I'm going. He probably just wants to know so he can plan the best way to avoid me, or make me miserable.

"Probably," I reply. "Stan said that since we all won't be seeing much of each other when we part ways for college, the trip to Arizona would be a good way for us all to hang out one last time. He wants it to be like old times with me, Kenny, Butters, you, and him, I guess."

"Wow, what a fag," Cartman snickers. So much for having a civilized conversation. Normally, I would have punched him, but Stan _has _been a dick lately, so I just shrug.

"Hey, guys!" Kenny says squeezing between the two of us, and putting his arms around either of our shoulders.

"Get away from me, you fag," Cartman glowers, quickly moving away from Kenny's reach. Kenny gives a mocking look of devastation.

Kenny no longer hides his face with an orange hood. It was around eighth grade when I suggested to Kenny that he should ditch the hood. Not because I thought the hood was ugly, but Kenny was a very shy kid. He was complaining to me about how he wanted to have more confidence, so I thought that him showing his face more could help. At first, he was very nervous about showing his face at school. So, I told him that if he didn't wear his hood, then I wouldn't wear my hat. We haven't worn either of them since.

"So, Kyle," he says with his arm still around me in mock affection, "are you going to Token's party?"

"Most likely," I reply. "Are you?"

"Hell yes. _Never _would I miss out on a party with free booze." It's true. Kenny loves parties mainly for that reason. Kenny turns his head over to Cartman.

"Are you going, Cartman?"

"I don't get my car back until July so I don't see how I'd get there," Cartman replies quietly, fidgeting with the drawstrings on his sweatshirt.

"You could probably get a ride from someone," Kenny suggested.

"I'm not that desperate, Kenny."

"I never said you were. Me and Tammy are riding with Stan and Wendy since we don't even a car. It's nothing to feel ashamed about." Cartman snaps his head up and glares at Kenny.

"I'm not ashamed of anything, you poor piece of shit!" His sudden outburst startles me and many of the passersby in the hallway, but Kenny only seems a bit irritated. Why is Cartman acting so moody today?

"I'm just trying to help out, asshole."

"I don't need your help," he snaps. "Besides, who the hell would give me a ride if Stan is already giving you and your girlfriend a ride?"

Kenny's head turns back towards me and gives a sinister grin. I don't like where this is going.

"You could ride with Kyle in his car."

_"Fuck no!" _Cartman and I shout out in unison.

"I'm not going if I have to ride with Jew-boy." Cartman pouts like a little seven year-old and folds his arms.

"Aw, c'mon guys! It's only about a one-day drive there and back." Kenny gives us a pleading look. Cartman sighs and quietly murmurs the word 'fine'. Kenny gives a satisfied smile and looks over to me.

"Kyle, would you be willing give Cartman a ride?" The two stare at me expectantly and I let out a long sigh of defeat.

"Fine," I mutter rolling my eyes.

I have a feeling that this will be an aggravating trip.

* * *

_What do you guys think? Was is it good? Horrible? Let me know, please! _

_I know this chapter was a bit boring, but I promise it will get more interesting. Thanks so much for reading and stay tuned for some Kyman coming up later in the story! _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I'm am SO sorry that this update took so long. About two months, right? UGH!_

_Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! They really motivated me to continue this._

•°•°•°•°•

**Chapter 2**

I wake up Friday morning to some R&B song that I don't even remember the name of. After about fifteen minutes of the song on repeat, I'm finally awake enough to turn the damn alarm off. My eyes are half-closed as the bright rays of sunlight shine through my thin curtains.

When my eyes finally adjust to the bright light, I glance at the time on my cell phone. _6:47 a.m. _Groaning, I remember that I'm supposed to be at Cartman's house by 7:30. Speaking of him, I discover that I have a text message sent last night from him:

"_Hey jewfag. Dont 4get 2 be at mah house by 7:30. if u arent there then I'll kick u in the nuts. k bye"_

What a delightful message to wake up to. I simply reply, "_K. See you then, lard butt. Make sure you're ready by then or I'm leaving without you."_

I send the message and walk into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready. I've already packed everything I need yesterday evening, so I don't have to rush. My mom insists that I have two huge jugs of water in my trunk, as well as a blanket. I find it completely unnecessary. What the hell does she think will happen that I'll need so much? Probably she wants me to be prepared, in case of a car accident or something. I guess if that makes her feel more comfortable, there's no point in arguing.

Once I'm out of the shower, I rush back to my bedroom wearing only a towel. After a short debate on what to wear, I decide on red, baggy gym shorts and a gray v-neck shirt.

By 7:15, all of my belongings are packed in the backseat of the car. Since I have about fifteen minutes left, I make a bowl of cornflakes to eat at the kitchen table and relax before I have to endure the torture of spending twelve hours in a car with my worst enemy.

Not long after I take a few bites of my cereal, my mom walks into the kitchen wearing a light pink bathrobe. That's odd, I didn't hear her come downstairs.

"Morning, Mom," I say cheerfully, a fake smile plastered to my face. She returns the gesture.

"Good morning, Kyle. How did you sleep?"

"Pretty well," I answer, absentmindedly stirring the cornflakes with my spoon.

"That's good." She takes out a carton of eggs from the fridge.

We go on with our own business until it's twenty-five past and we're standing in the driveway. I'm packing my things into my car. It's sunny outside and fairly warm.

"Are you sure you have everything you need, Bubbe?" she asks worriedly.

"Yes, Mom." I roll my eyes.

"So you didn't forget to bring your insulin, sunscreen, and cellphone?" I nod. "And are those jugs of water still in the car?"

"Mhm," I confirm once more. She sighs but then smiles up at me.

"Okay, Kyle. I trust you. You're an adult now and you've shown that you're responsible enough for doing this." I smile at her. This time it's genuine.

As I head into the black SUV, my mom once again stops me.

"Just don't drink at the party, and please, drive carefully."

"Don't worry, Ma." I smile reassuringly. "I'll be fine."

The two of us wave our final goodbyes as I drive off, heading to the Cartman household.

I park in the driveway of his house with a few minutes to spare. There's a slight feeling of dejá vu in me as I gaze up at the forest-green house. Jesus, I haven't been here in years, but the house looks exactly the same as when we were kids. I almost feel dejected at how much my life has changed since the fourth grade.

The garage door is open, but Liane's blue car isn't inside. That's odd. Why would she be out this early? I sputter, remembering that she's the town whore and is probably sleeping at some pervert's house right now.

When I reach his front door, I gingerly bring my finger up to the doorbell. Wait... I _could _just leave him here and drive off on my own. It's not like I'll ever see him after this, so why not ditch him? He deserves it for being an asshole all of these years.

I turn on my heel to leave, but involuntarily stop and stare at my car parked in the driveway. What am I thinking? If I just ditch him after I already told him that I would give him a ride, it would be rude to just back out like that. Cartman would most likely do it to me if given the chance, but I'm not Cartman.

"What the hell are you doing, Jew?" The voice from behind surprises me and I gasp. I spin around and see Cartman with a puzzled expression. I wonder how long he's seen me here, looking like a fucking idiot?

"What do you mean 'what am I doing'?" I respond defensively. "I'm picking you up, like I told you I would!" He rolls his eyes. I notice that he's wearing a black T-shirt and tight denim jeans. They fit him well.

"Well, you do realize that my door isn't facing the driveway, right?" he mocks giving me a shit-eating grin.

"Whatever, dumbass. Are you ready to go? Where's your stuff? 'Cause I'm not going to wait for your—"

"Right here." He interrupts with a smug grin, tossing a bright-yellow book bag in front of me.

"Okay, good. What about the forty bucks?" He grunts, taking out two twenties from his back pocket. When we were discussing the plans for the trip via text, I told him to bring forty bucks for gas. Since I'm the one taking him on the trip, he needs to help with payments. At first he didn't want to at all, but I told him if he doesn't help pay, then he can just sit his sorry ass down and miss the party. Finally, he caved in.

"Alright, now just go to the car and put whatever you want in the backseat next to my stuff and get in the passengers seat."

"Wow, I didn't know Jews were so bossy," he remarks, locking his door. I ignore him and open the car doors. He puts his things in the back while I hop into the drivers seat and start the ignition.

"Hold on, asshole! I'm not done!" Cartman hollers, still arranging his things in the back.

"I know, I'm just starting the car. Do you mind?"

Shortly after, he slams the back door roughly and plops into the passengers seat.

"So what's the plan?" Cartman asks, closing his door and buckling his seat belt

"Well, the drive itself will take approximately twelve hours. Add how long stops will take and we've got fourteen hours at most." Cartman sulks a little in his seat.

"It would be so much easier to take an airplane," he mutters.

"No one forced you to ride with me. If you wanted to go on a plane then I don't see why you're here."

"I didn't realize it would take so damn long!" he sits up suddenly.

"Well that's not my fault!" I retort. Ungrateful bastard. I'm spending hundreds of dollars on gas and the least he could do is thank me for letting him tag along!

"What time is the party, anyway?" Cartman asks, changing the subject.

"It starts around three tomorrow. We'll meet Stan and Kenny at a motel tonight. We probably won't get there before midnight."

Cartman nods tiredly and rests his head against the car window. I'm almost jealous since I'm tired as well, but I have to keep my eyes on the road. Is this party even worth the tiring drive?

•°•°•°•°•

After Cartman got his precious beauty sleep, he's back to his usual self - constantly nagging about how we should go to a rest stop or that he needs to go to the restroom. Shit, it's only been an hour and I don't know much longer I can take this.

"Stop being such a Jew!" he whines. "I'm fucking hungry." God, he's such a baby.

"That's because you're a fatass," I reply simply, not looking away from the road.

"Ay! Screw you!" he exclaims angrily. "Besides, I'm not even fat anymore."

"Keep telling yourself that, tubby." He grits his teeth which makes me crack up. He's so ill-tempered that it's hilarious. I hate to say it, but arguing with him can be entertaining.

"Anyway, I have to take a piss so just hurry up!"

"It's only been an hour!" I exclaim.

"You try drinking four liters of Diet Double Dew the night before and try holding it."

"Why in hell would you still drink that shit after what happened in fourth grade?!"

"Dude, have you _had_ Double Dew? It's so good." He smiles dreamily as if picturing the yellow liquid in all its glory.

"That's not the point! You don't drink something that makes you constantly have diarrhea."

"That's only if I eat _Arby's Ultimate Angus_ with it, dipshit."

•°•°•°•°•

I really have no clue how an argument about a carbonated beverage turned into one on my sexuality, but in a little less than an hour, that's exactly what happened.

"Seriously, Kyle, you're such a fag. Don't even try to deny it. I bet you even fantasize about screwing Stan," Cartman snickers obnoxiously. "Who knows? Maybe you two actually _are_ screwing!"

"You are so disgusting!" I snap.

"I don't see you denying it." Without even looking at myself in the mirror, I can tell that my face is flushed from both anger and humiliation. My face probably matches the color of my hair!

"Goddammit, Cartman! Stan's my best friend and nothing more! I'm not even gay, anyway." Well, half of that statement is true. Stan is like a brother to me. All the crazy shit that's gone on in South Park, we've been through together. Hell, we've saved each other's lives on several different occasions! I love him more than anything, but not like... THAT! Sick, dude! So, Stan is my best friend. _That's_ true. However, I'm fairly sure that I am, in fact, gay. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate a nice set of boobs every now and then, but that's as far as attraction to girls go for me. I used to have a few crushes on girls back in elementary school as well, but I never felt an actual attraction to them.

Guys, on the other hand, are just so... _hot._ Their broad, muscular figures take my breath away. I don't get many crushes on guys either, though. It's more of a physical attraction, I think.

I haven't told anyone of this yet. If I do decide to come out, the first person I tell will be Stan. He's probably the only one I can trust to keep it a secret and not judge me for it. My mom has always wanted me to marry a sweet little Jewish girl, so I'm not gonna break the news to her yet.

"So, if you're not gay, why do you always get jealous when him and Wendy make out?" he interrogates.

"What the hell are talking about?" He clicks his tongue in exasperation.

"Oh Kahl, you're so dense it pains me." I glare forward, trying to concentrate on the road. "I see you grimace at them when they kiss. You're obviously jealous that Wendy gets to have him all to herself." Shit. He sees me doing that?

"It's not that I'm _jealous_," I start, pushing my messy bangs out of my eyes. "It's just kind of gross seeing them sucking their faces off. It has nothing to do with jealousy."

"Hm, maybe it's not jealousy then." I crinkle my nose in confusion. "It probably just grosses you out seeing heterosexual couples kissing, since you're gay." I bang my right hand on the steering wheel.

"Fuck you, Cartman! If anyone's a fag here, it's you!"

"What have I ever done that was gay?"

"Let's see here," I mockingly ponder, tapping my index finger to my forehead. "Oh, that's right! The time you were so eager to have me suck your balls. If that doesn't spell out 'gay', I don't know what does." _That_ took Cartman off guard.

"I only wanted you to for the sole purpose of humiliation. Besides, at the end of the day you willingly sucked them in Imaginationland." I grit my teeth. When will he understand that _I_ wasn't the one to suck his balls? It was an imaginary version of me sucking imaginary Cartman.

"That wasn't me! That was something you imagined!"

"Haven't we already settled this, Kyle? Imaginary things are real."

I groan. I would slap the shit out of him if I wasn't driving. "That's not the only gay thing you've done, anyway."

He looks like a deer caught in headlights, but tries not to show it. "Like... what?"

"You want me to make a list?" I say, rhetorically. "You gave Ben Affleck a hand job, you sucked Butters' dick, dressed up as Britney Spears and danced with a Justin Timberlake cutout while saying 'touch my hot body.'" Cartman opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it. I can't contain my laughter any longer.

"Well, I... Whatever, Kahl! You're still a fag."

"Still not as much of a fag as you!" I tell him, in between giggles.

No matter what he says, I've won this time.


End file.
